


An Insufferable Pair

by AniGraham



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Civil War questline, Interesting NPCs Mod, M/M, Tags to be added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-10
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-04-20 01:15:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4768037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AniGraham/pseuds/AniGraham
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fic based off of my character Graham and my play through of Skyrim with him.  A soldier of the Imperial army runs into an Altmer on his way to Windhelm.  Having been accustomed to traveling alone, the two form a close bond as Graham works to end the civil war, Rumarin struggles to learn a spell, and the two learn how to rely on another.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Ridiculous Wager

**Author's Note:**

> While it begins with Graham and Rumarin first meeting, this chapter focuses a bit more on Graham's history.

Even for a Nord, the snowstorm that was growing stronger by the minute was managing to cut through the layers of his fur and armor. Graham shivered a bit and briefly wondered if his time living in Cyrodiil had weakened his blood to the harsh and freezing climate of Skyrim. He struggled to keep his eyes open to see through the whirling flurries that filled the air as he forced himself to continue marching forward. All the trails and roads in the area were buried beneath layers of snow and this was why Graham was wandering off his intended path and at risk of missing Windhelm. It became clear to Graham that he should have followed the advice of Hadring and stayed another night or two at Nightgate Inn.

' _I need to find a cave or a ruin._ ' His thoughts brought him to a stop to slowly scan the area around him the best he could. ' _At least the storm is keeping the wolves away._ '

There wasn't much in the way of landmarks to help guide him to the capital of Eastmarch. Knowing that there should be river close by that he could follow, the Nord began making his way up a nearby hill to gain a better view of the area. After several labored steps, Graham's spirits lifted as he saw the outline of a Nordic ruin beginning to show through the falling snow.

' _Finally!_ '

The ruin was quite small, only a single room, but enough to provide some shelter for the time being. The Nord made his way up the steps heading inside where he discovered another man waiting with his back toward the entrance. Before Graham had a chance to call out, the silence was broken first by the opening of two sarcophagi.

A cracking noise followed by a loud thud as both lids fell to the ground kicking up dust in the process. Graham growled softly to himself as he drew his sword and raised his shield. He was not in the mood for fighting at the moment, but thankfully only skeletons had stepped out toward the two men.

Graham moved for the skeleton closest to the other man, taking it down in one hit. He turned on his heel to make for the second one only to freeze in position as he felt the brief whisk of air brush past his head. A blue ghostly arrow struck the remaining skeleton which crumpled into a pile of bones only a few steps out from where the fiend had been resting.

"Wow, that was a frightening experience."

He sheathed his sword and turned to face the other, an Altmer wearing mage college robes, thick furs, and now sporting a shimmering blue bow on his back. "The Nords should really consider burning their dead."

A small chuckled slipped free as the Nord turned his attention to the back wall. A fine spot to sit and lean against while waiting for the storm to die down. 

"I suppose you're right. Hadn't thought about it like that before."

"You did great though. How about you have first pick through the treasure?"

The Nord looked around and began noting two urns nestled off to one side. It was something he didn't tend to notice in general unless someone pointed them out to him.

"It doesn't feel right." He took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment, "Sorting through the ashes of my ancestors for a few coins is not something I make a habit of doing."

"You must be pretty poor for an adventurer then." A yellow finger was slowly running along the lid of one of the urns as the mer was considering whether or not it would be rude for him to loot the place anyway.

"Go ahead. I won't stop you." Graham offered a smile to reassure the Altmer before continuing on while motioning to his own armor, "I'm not just an adventurer you know. I'm a soldier of the Imperial army and I do earn a wage."

Of course there was also crossing paths with bandits who sometimes carried a handful of coin or a small collection of other valuables. Graham decided not to mention that other source of income however.

"A Nord fighting with the Imperial army? Fighting against the 'true sons and daughters' of Skyrim? You must not be well liked." There was a short pause to inspect a ruby the Altmer had discovered, "I assumed you simply preferred wearing a skirt."

The first comment was what hit a nerve. Graham shuffled his feet a bit, huffed, and looked off to the side for a moment.

Skyrim was where he was born and Graham had spent his early childhood years in Solitude. His family later moved to Cyrodiil and he would have been content growing old and dying in the Imperial province, but when Ulfric Stormcloak formed a resistance to fight against the Empire, Graham felt an intense need to do something about it. He volunteered to be part of the Auxilia of the Imperial army and headed back into the north. The Empire had slowly grown weaker over the decades. For Graham there was a fear of his homeland severely weakening the Empire and being the reason for the people finding themselves in a dark and squalid age. Having returned to his homeland as a man brought a sense of pride and duty to aid it, but he did not receive a warm homecoming. 

It was often assumed that Graham, being a Nord himself, supported the rebellion. There had been many occasions where fellow Nords would turn to him, offer drink and song in praise of the Stormcloaks and Ulfric. It created an awkward situation and one that would quickly turn sour when Graham let it known that he didn't support the rebellion. In areas where citizens supported the Empire, he was met with hostility at the worst times and indifference at the best. He took to wearing the Imperial armor to help with assumptions, but things didn't get much better. A particularly upsetting memory happened late afternoon on the 4th of Hearthfire.

A freshly killed dragon lay on the plains of Whiterun near a burning watch tower on that day. A few bodies decorated the landscape, dust was still settling from where the beast had fell, and everyone left alive was slowly approaching the corpse. It was the first time Graham had seen an actual dragon in person and while it was covered in blood, gashes, dirt, and arrows, the giant lizard still looked very much alive. Graham's heart was racing and for a brief moment he held his breath. Before him the giant beast began to smolder and then burn, fire engulfing the body from the inside out. Everything but a skeleton remained as a gust of wind erupted from the dragon in a burst of light and encircled Graham. A quick chill ran through his body, an echo of an unfamiliar voice spoke to him saying ' _Fus_ ,' and the concept of Force came to his mind.

Graham hadn't fully processed what had happened, but those who were Nords and who had witnessed the event before them did. Graham was the Dragonborn of legend and with the return of Alduin the World-Eater, it was he who was to become a Nordic hero and quite possibly save all of Nirn. The expressions the Whiterun guards had were mixed. Some were in awe, a couple were elated, and the ones Graham remembered the best were those who looked disappointed and even fearful. Nords who supported the rebellion, whether or not they actually joined the ranks of the Stormcloaks, had to watch their legendary Dragonborn fight on the side of the Empire and become an enemy to the true sons and daughters of Skyrim.

The Altmer had stated the obvious. Graham felt a bit ostracized by the inhabitants of Skyrim. For this reason as an auxiliary soldier for the Empire, he took on any solitary missions or tasks that needed to be done.

"My name is Graham."

The Altmer perked up and looked over at Graham, pleased that his friendly banter hadn't caused any offense.

"The name is Rumarin, professional adventurer, bladebinder, and grave robber."

"Where will you be headed once this storm dies a bit down?" Graham motioned for Rumarin to have a seat. It would be more pleasant to pass the time with conversation.

"Oh, I have a friend who works the stables in Windhelm. That's where I am staying for the time being. After that, who knows?"

A look of amusement crossed Graham's face. "I happen to be heading to Windhelm."

"Well!" Rumarin leaned in a bit and spoke softly the way merchants do when they are trying to make their offer appear to be that amazing deal that only comes up once in a lifetime, "I normally travel alone, but that's because I am insufferable. If by chance you are willing to overlook that, I might make for a good companion."

He was not a very good salesman.

"I suspect you will be the one regretting traveling with me." Graham's amusement hadn't faded yet. Next to the Nord was his bag and secured to it was a battle axe wrapped in cloth. He knew that it was the delivery of this axe that would lead to bloodshed.

Now Rumarin was looking a bit more amused, "Care to make a wager?"

"Huh?"

"First person who can no longer stand being around the other has to buy dinner. As a way to..." Rumarin struggled to find the right way to phrase it, "terminate our partnership."

"I feel that will only encourage you to go out of your way to be annoying and unbearable."

Rumarin did his best to put on his most serious of expressions. It didn't suit him very well.

"You'll just have to trust me that I will be my regular charming self." He extended a hand toward the Nord, "And I will have to trust that you'll do the same."

It was ridiculous.

"Sure."

It also wasn't a big deal. Graham gave Rumarin's hand a firm shake, thinking how it would be nice to spend some company with another person for a while.


	2. The Battle For Whiterun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ulfric finally makes a significant effort to take the city of Whiterun while Jarl Balgruuf and the Imperial army can't agree on how to react.

There takes a certain amount of trust for a warrior to hand over his own weapon to another.  For the other warrior to keep the weapon is to show respect.  To give it back is to say "You should prepare for battle" and it is a sign that there is still something that needs to be settled between the two men.

Graham was currently carrying Jarl Balgruuf's axe and riding in a carriage back toward Whiterun with his companion, Rumarin.  The axe had been offered up to Ulfric Stormcloak, but as most people had expected, it had been rejected.  A battle was soon to come.

The weather had been fairing well as the carriage was traveling past the farmlands outside of Whiterun.  Their time in the carriage gave the Nord and Altmer a chance to talk and somewhat get to know one another.  For Graham he learned quickly that Rumarin was skillful in the ways of deflection.  Any question or prodding about the war, politics, and even just the Thalmor in general was met with jokes, snide remarks, and the casual changing of topics.  On the other end of things, Rumarin learned that Graham was the sort of person who dealt with uncomfortable topics with silence.  The Nord would simply shut down when asked about living in Skyrim, other companions he might have had, and even what he enjoyed doing for fun.  For Rumarin this was a very peculiar thing and he was determined to figure him out more somehow.  For the remaining time on their carriage ride, Rumarin settled for discussing both of their pasts and upbringing. 

"We're almost there!"  The carriage driver, Alfarinn, looked over his shoulder at the other two men.  "Think we made good time too."

Both men sat up and began taking in the new scenery.  It was midday and there were barely any clouds in the sky.  As the cart began traveling along the road following the river, some activity atop the south-eastern portion of the wall became more noticeable.  Men were busy hanging branches of dried Elves Ear from the wall and layering wet hides and furs on top of the them.

"What do you think that is all about?"  Rumarin squinted a bit at the scene before him.

Graham quickly stood up to gain a better look over the area across the river.  The farms were eerily vacant of not only man, but beasts as well.  He began scanning the area for an explanation.

"The Stormcloaks. . ."  Graham finally noticed a rebel blockade ahead at the bridge that would lead them across the river.  Whiterun was under siege.  "You need to stop the cart!  _Now!_ "

Alfarinn looked over at his shoulder a bit confused, but the authority in Graham's voice convinced him not to question it.  A couple of Stormcloaks began approaching them from the blockade and Graham got off the cart and drew his sword, his feet moving fast to put as much distance between him and the cart.

"You might want to turn around and head back.  We'll hold them off while you get away."  Rumarin flashed a smile to Alfarinn before climbing off the back and following Graham.

Upon recognizing Graham's armor as being that of the Imperial legion, the two approaching men readied their weapons and prepared themselves to deliver a power attack against the Nord.  

Graham quickly came to a stop and braced himself, holding up his shield.  The warhammer made contact first and Graham managed to stay on his feet.  He pushed away and moved back while barely missing the blade from the great sword that followed behind shortly.  His attention went toward the soldier wielding the lighter weapon.  He pressed forward and shoved his shield into the other soldier in an attempt to knock him down.  Farther down the road, Rumarin conjured up a bow and let loose arrow after arrow.  The first missed, but the second buried deep in the hammer wielding soldier who was winding up for a second attack.

Short sword against great sword.  Graham was able to move faster and his sword made contact with an unprotected thigh.  It was enough to draw blood and cause the soldier to falter.  Graham pressed forward, bashing with his shield, and taking that moment to trip the Stormcloak.  The man hit the ground hard and he stayed down.  He would live another day.  For Graham there was no time to think.  The warhammer made contact with his shield, bashing it away and leaving Graham open to attack.  But straining with pain from arrows and the weight of the large weapon, both soldiers were vulnerable and Graham could react faster.  Thrusting his short sword forward, piercing padded armor, piercing chain, and finally cutting into the Stormbloacks abdomen, Graham made short work of his opponent.

In his mind, Graham quietly apologized to the fallen soldier, but this feeling of guilt was only short lived as he turned his attention down the road.  Rumarin was catching up to Graham and the two quickly made toward the shallow river that surrounded the walled city and made their way across.  Graham did his best to keep his goal at the front of his mind while ignoring the site of the Stormcloak army that he could see in the corner of his eye.

Beyond the river, the road, and a few of the farms of Whiterun was the Stormcloak camp.  The army was assembling their artillery, large catapults that would soon be hurling incendiary missiles at the walls of Whiterun.  Ulfric's parting words had been about how Whiterun would be seeing them "sooner than expected."  At the time, Graham assumed those words didn't hold much weight, but it was clear now that while Jarl Balgruuf was spending time trying to stay neutral, Ulfric and his Stormcloaks spent their time preparing for a siege.  With the Imperial army standing back in fear of angering Ulfric, the Stormcloaks had the space and time to secretly prepare, stock up on supplies, and bring in everything they would need for a city assault.  It was difficult for Graham not to curse Balgruuf's name.

The stables, the outdoor market, and all the way leading to the gate were completely vacant.  Not even a guard in sight outside of the walls of Whiterun and it was just Graham's luck that the draw bridge was still down allowing him to reach the entrance to the city.  Graham called out for the doors to be open and after a guard atop the wall confirmed his identity, Graham and Rumarin were able to slip in.  Just beyond its doors were legionaries standing in formation and showing more discipline than the Whiterun guards who stood about in the streets and tending to their weapons and armor.

"Graham!"  It was Hadvar who spotted him, "Didn't expect to see you here."

"I could say the same, but I am glad you are here."  There was a sigh of relief.

"We have expected for some time that the Stormcloaks were hiding near by just waiting for a reason to attack."

Graham clenched his jaw a bit, "I bet the very moment I stepped foot outside the castle, Ulfric sent the order."

"Aye.  If the Jarl wasn't so stubborn, we could have been better prepared.  We don't even have our artillery here to properly fight back."  Hadvar glanced back at some of the soldiers still standing in wait, "I wonder how many of us think we'll be the lucky ones and survive this."

"How are the food supplies?"

"Not much I'm afraid."  Hadvar reached up and rubbed the back of his neck.  He looked off to the side and was struggling a bit to keep his worry from showing, "Like I said.  We could have been better prepared."

"Who's in charge?"

"Legate Rikke has been handling the men out here and Legate Cipius is handling the Jarl up in Dragonsreach."

Graham turned to leave, but Hadvar stopped him to give him a final message.  "I better not find you face down in the dirt later."

With a quick flash of a smile, Graham hurried off toward Dragonsreach.

The rest of the city and its streets had little activity as the citizens of Whiterun had already taken safety wherever they could.  Only a few Imperial soldiers were about carrying buckets of water and preparing for the initial attack.  The stairs leading to the top of the bluff and into the Cloud District was completely vacant, causing a shiver with a slight chill along Graham's spine.  It was eerie and felt so unreal to him.  Never before had he ever felt so alone and so vulnerable in one of the major cities of Skyrim.  His chest grew tight and his breath was shallow.  He had to stop at the great doors of Dragonsreach.  He had to collect himself.  He couldn't show any sign of worry, doubt, or fear.  In Graham's mind, he was only a soldier of the Imperial army, but he knew that for many of the others, he was so much more than that.  It was a lot of weight to carry, but he needed to focus only on the task at hand.

With a deep breath, he opened one of the great doors and headed inside with companion close behind.

The stillness that weighed over the entire Cloud District continued on inside.  The great hall that was normally filled with servants, guards, members of the court and the Jarl's family stood empty and it was as if time had stopped all together.  Food on the grand table had been left uneaten, wine unfinished, and burning candles that were struggling to hold onto what little wick that was left.  Jarl Balgruuf's voice along the voices of two others echoed down into the great hall.  Both Graham and Rumarin quickly followed the sound and headed up the stairs into the war room.

Legate Cipius appeared to be arguing with another Imperial soldier, but it was the Jarl who spotted Graham first.

"You've returned and with my axe no doubt. I assumed that would be the case. After you left I sent a message to General Tullius and he was kind enough to send back Legate Cipius here along with some of his men."  The Jarl waved his hand a bit, turning away from Graham already,  "I'll turn you back over to your Legion."

With a nod, Graham retrieved the axe he was carrying and left it up on the table before turning his attention to the Legate.

"Sir."

"Oh!  It's you."  Cipius had finally dismissed the soldier he had been arguing with, "I had expected your return after the battle was over with."

"Where do you want me?  What is our plan of action right now?"

"Yes."  Cipius' voice lowered just so slightly.  His eyes glancing to the side and shoulders sinking just enough to be noticed, Graham could tell something was deeply bothering him.  "I have our men working on protecting the walls from their initial assault.  We're fireproofing them the best we can and setting up water brigades.  I'm just trying to decide who to send to start rationing the supplies.  I'll need a team to specifically gather all the food in the city, take inventory, and we will have to plan how to make it last as long as possible.  We need to feed an army _and_ a city."

There was something in the way Cipius spoke that last sentence that told Graham it was more for the ear of the Jarl than for him.  Graham looked between the two and while the Jarl was studying the map of Skyrim that was spread out on a table, it was clear that he was tense with something weighing on his mind.  Both men were.  Graham must have just missed a heated argument between the two.

"May I be so bold to make a suggestion, sir?"  Graham's eyes slowly met the Legate's.

"Go on."  Cipius looked almost grateful even before knowing what Graham had to say.  He flicked a hand to the side to suggest Graham speak up for all to hear.

"We act."  He raised his voice, but kept his eyes locked with Cipius, "We march out and act, heading for their camp and forcing their men to attack directly."

"That is madness!"  Jarl Balgruuf barely cut Graham off while putting heavy emphasis on each syllable.  This outburst was punctuated with the scraping of the table being shoved against floor.  Soon the Jarl was standing by the two Imperial soldiers and continued yelling, "Has everyone in your legion gone mad?  You. . ."

Graham held his breath a bit in surprise as the Jarl examined him while standing uncomfortably close.  Graham had helped Whiterun before and the Jarl personally, but it was as if the Jarl was only now seeing Graham for the first time.  A fellow Nord, but one who was cleanly shaven, smooth skin and round eyes that gave an impression of innocence and--

"What do _you_  know of war, _boy_?!"  Jarl Balgruuf pulled away, shot a harsh look toward the Legate, and continued back toward the grand table, "I was fighting battles long before your mother squeezed you out."

Cipius remained calm, but appeared tired.  This was the very argument they had been having, whether to wait out the siege or take to the battlefield.  The Imperial soldier who had been dismissed earlier returned at that moment to alert the Legate that the assault on the wall had begun.  If it wasn't for the Jarl's shouting, they would have heard it for themselves.

Graham followed after Balgruuf and continued with his pleading.  "You have an entire army here who is ready to fight and protect Whiterun.  Your city!"

"Yes, and that is exactly what you are doing now is it not?"

"It's my understanding that the food supplies here are minimal.  We cannot win a siege like this."

"We have plenty of water and if we ration the supplies and play it smart we will."

"Your people are going to starve!"  Graham was growing impatient and frustrated that the Jarl known for being incredibly impatient himself would rather wait out a siege instead of fight.

"Not before Ulfric's men break!"  In the Jarl's mind, that was weakness.  Ulfric's men wouldn't last while his would endure.

The two men were back to facing each other and the Jarl only moved closer, practically breathing down upon Graham as he continued on before the younger Nord could protest.

"Whiterun will not fall.  A city's greatest defense are its walls."  Jarl Balgruuf's words were calm, but spoken with such authority as if to say this was the end of discussion.

However, Graham's emotions overcame all sense of decorum and he practically yelled in the face of the Jarl, "The Imperial army is _Skyrim's wall!_ "

Realizing his sudden outburst was more than just disrespectful, Graham quickly lowered his eyes and pulled back.  He couldn't bring himself to apologize and instead turned and walked toward Legate Cipius while leaving a the Jarl standing there speechless.  Graham took a breath to speak, but the Legate cut him short.

"We're doing this my way."  Cipius reached up, took Graham by the arm, and lead the Nord away, "Find Legate Rikke and tell her that we are moving forward.  I want you positioned with our heavier infantry.  Center."  He lowered his voice so that only Graham would hear, a bit of amusement slipping into his tone, "To shout at the Jarl like that. . .I know you can handle this.  I need men like you in center."

The two continued down the stairs and into the throne room.  "And you better not die out there.  I will need you to head to Solitude immediately after we are done here."

Graham tilted his head to the side, "Sir?"

"I estimate that Ulfric has sent a bulk of his army here to capture Whiterun.  I hope with our numbers, we can significantly drop his army down and immediately head north.  You are aware of Fort Dunstad that is currently under Stormcloak control there, yes?  The fort is naturally protected on its Eastern and Western sides.  We've been trying to build up our numbers to prepare an assault from the North, but now we might be able to attack from the South as well.  Stormcloak reinforcements will have to come from Windhelm, but it wont be so easy marching a suitable army from the East.  I also seriously doubt Ulfric will have the numbers for it."

"What if Ulfric is already expecting that to be our next move?"

Cipius slowly smiled, looking quite pleased, and straightened his stance while giving a solid pat on Graham's back.  There was something off putting about that look that left Graham feeling a bit tense.

"That has already been taken care of."  

Graham remained quiet, not wanting to know the details.  

"I will need you to report back to General Tullius when this is all over and tell him all that I just told you.  With any luck, by the time you reach him the fort will already be ours.  Now go."

Graham nodded and left Cipius to return to the Jarl who was busy yelling for Irileth and Proventus, whoever was in earshot.  Rumarin made it to Graham's side shortly before the Nord made it to the grand doors.

"You know, you should be more careful. The last time someone shouted at a Jarl like that it started a war!"

That remark caused Graham to choke back a chuckle.  He shook his head to get back on task, took a deep breath, and spoke softly, "You should stay here."

Rumarin's eyebrows shot up, "Why?"

"This isn't your war.  You don't need to get involved."  The Nord tried to offer a friendly smile, "It will be safer here."

Rumarin only crossed his arms and remained quiet, doing his best not to take too much offense at the suggestion.  He watched Graham leave soon after.

Outside, the Stormcloak army was firing their artillery at the city of Whiterun.  Ceramic pots were flying over the fields and toward the city walls while mages fired back with spikes of ice.  Any pots hit with the spikes exploded and rained oil and ceramic shards onto the grounds below, but the Stormcloak artillery soon began to overwhelm the few mages that were defending the city from the assault and pots began smashing into homes of the Plains district and its walls.  They shattered erupting with fire as its contents mixed and ignited the oils inside.  Imperial soldiers along with guards of Whiterun did their best passing buckets of water to extinguish fires.  The battle had begun with the city being set ablaze.

It didn't take long for Graham to deliver orders to Legate Rikke or for the Imperial army to prepare to exit the walled city soon after.  When the Stormcloaks became occupied with resetting their catapults, the doors to Whiterun burst open and the thunder of marching began to fill the farmlands.  Soldiers of red poured out through the archways and made their way outside.  During this time Irileth made it to her men with orders from the Jarl to also take up arms.  Every guard capable with a bow was ordered to take to the walls to provide missile offense for the Imperial army while any available hands took to tending to fires from the next wave of the Stormcloak assault.  The walls were still standing, but some homes were beginning to crumble and collapse.  

Once every Imperial soldier had made it outside of the city, they quickened their pace and began setting into formations.  The Stormcloaks had been in a rhythm with their artillery, but the sight of the Imperial army leaving the city caused them to halt all together to take in this curious display.  This delay allowed the army to set up a formation the best they could.  Light infantry took the front ranks.  In a second formation in back were the more veteran troops, heavily armored, and standing closer together.  This formation was made up of two large blocks of soldiers connected by two rows of men and women.  It was in the center of this back formation where Graham stood waiting.

The Stormcloaks had expected the siege battle to take weeks if the old walls of Whiterun didn't collapse sooner.  They hadn't expected to see an army march out and prepare for a fight on foot.  Seeing the rows of soldiers in red, those weak Imperial _dogs_ , the Stormcloak soldiers began to grow impatient and even angry.  

One soldier in blue shouted, "If they want to die so badly, let us help them!"

A single catapult let loose from a team who was acting in anger.  Commanders began scrambling to devise a new plan of action when the sound of metal clashing against metal called their attention.  The front rank of Imperial soldiers were taunting them and soon began marching forward toward their camp.

Those red Imperial soldiers.  The Stormcloaks viewed them as pompous in behavior and weak in action.  The once strong and mighty Empire was now under the hand of the Dominion.  Weak.  Whipped.   Puppets.  The army of red might have the numbers, but they held no honor.  No.  In the minds of the army of blue, they had devotion and passion.  They had a reason to fight.  This was their home and their land and they would run every last red mongrel out of Skyrim.  This flare up of emotions had more teams of catapults going off before being ordered to do so.

And this was a weakness of the Stormcloaks that the Imperial army knew about.

While many men and women who fought for Ulfric had experience out in the battlefield, they were now unorganized under the rebellious Jarl.  They were desperate and they were emotional.  The Imperial army not only numbers they had discipline.  They had structure.  They had control.  They had no fear.

The Legate called out for them to prepare for an incoming missile attack.  Those in front held up their shields to hide their bodies the best they could.  Those behind raised their shields high and had them facing outward toward the sky.  They braced for impact and a Breton mage quickly tried to fire off an ice bolt, only to miss her target.

A pot smashed into the shields on those standing in the left flank of the formation.  Hot oil and fire slipped between some of the shields, burning both leather and flesh.  A few men called out and frantically worked to rid themselves of the flame eating away at them while the remaining soldiers didn't move.  They didn't flinch.  They all stood as statues, waiting for their next order.

From the Stormcloak camp came the sounding of a horn while soldiers in blue shouted in triumph.  With fire and smoke rising up into the air from the capital, the Stormcloaks finally ran forward and into the farmlands that were soon to become the battlefield.  

"Archers!  Ready!"  Legate Rikke's voice carried over the army.  Mages stepped back and archers moved forward on the wall.  In unison, they readied their bows.

"Loose!"

Arrows took to the skies, arching high before coming down on top of the approaching army.  Arrows found their way to shoulders, legs, shields, arms, and armor.  The majority of the men who were hit kept running with their anger and patriotism driving them forward.  Archers loaded and let loose again, desperate to get as many arrows off as possible before their allies would head out to meet the approaching army.

It was then that Commander Caius gave his command and all archers halted.  The first formation of the Imperial army made their advance toward a desperate group of raging Stormcloaks.

Soldiers slammed into each other.  Soon shields and weapons were clashing and the angry cries from both sides blended together as unintelligible noise.  They were all simple men and mer fighting for what they believed in.

Graham's rank remained in position while out on the battle field, men and women began falling.  Blood was soaking into the earth below.  Soldiers on both sides began to tire, grow weak, and their movements began to slow down.  A few mages on the side of the Stormcloaks desperately made their way through the masses of people to help heal their own.  The Whiterun archers became wise to this and focused on taking down these unarmored men and women.

For those defending, their spirit was about to break when they were relieved by a second call from an Imperial horn.  It was the signal for them to retreat.  It was a signal for the second stage to begin.  The light armored Imperial infantry pulled back from their opponents and began to head off toward the sides of the battlefield.  For the men and women in blue, they took this as a sign of weakness.  It was a boost to their morale.  Another loud cry from the soldiers in blue as a rush of adrenaline took them racing toward the Imperial forces who waited at the gate to Whiterun.  They felt revived and eager to break through the ranks and seize control of the Capital.

They failed to recognize that it was a trap.

Graham stood with some elite soldiers of the Imperial army in the center of their formation.  To those not so trained in the art of war, the center appeared to be an easy place to break through.  Seeing the Stormcloaks approach, there was an urge to shout building in Graham's chest.  He had to resist and brace himself instead.  None of the soldiers could move.  They had to be that wall for Skyrim.

The wave of Stormcloaks slammed into the two lines of Imperial soldiers, desperate to break and push through.  Bladed weapons pressed forward searching for flesh.  Hammers came down hard on shields in an attempt to knock opponents aside.  The Stormcloaks who were so desperate to reach the gates to the city, didn't notice the that Imperial soldiers on either side of the formation began to unravel and encircle their attacking force.

Stormcloaks were completely surrounded and trapped like animals.  They soon found it difficult to wield their war hammers and great swords in such close proximity, something that the Imperial short sword had no trouble with.

The battle for Whiterun ended with the slaughter of the so called true sons and daughters of Skyrim.

Twilight was approaching and a reminder to the remaining soldiers that while the battle had felt only like a few fleeting minutes, it had actually labored on for several hours.  Graham was approaching the first archway of Whiterun.  His steps were slow and now that he was no longer fighting, he became painfully aware of the strain he had put on every muscle in his body.  Vision was blurry from exhaustion and the sweat running down his forehead.  Once he was at the wall, he turned on his heel and practically collapsed to sit and lean back against the stone.  Gashes on his arm and leg tore a bit and Graham clenched his jaw tightly to keep from screaming out.

Imperial mages were running about the battlefield to tend to the wounded.  Some of the soldiers still running off their adrenaline were helping others limp back toward the city.

"Here."

The Nord struggled to lift his head and it took a moment for his eyes to focus on a certain high elf that was standing over him and offering a healing potion.

"What are you doing here?"  Graham asked while taking the bottle from him.

"Helping you it looks like."  Rumarin offered a smile, set Graham's bag down, and then crouched down to take a closer look at the open wound on the other man's arm.

"Thanks."  He forced a smile in return before noticing that shimmering blue bow on Rumarin's back.  It could mean only one thing.

"You.  You were fighting with us, weren't you?"

"Yes." 

"Why?"  It was a simple question.  Graham finally began drinking the sweet healing liquid and slowly the pain was dulling down and he was able to relax a bit.  Even with the healing potion going to work on fixing him from the inside out, Graham wouldn't be fully closed up until the evening.

"Well, I did consider the amusing scene it would have been for the Stormcloaks to have rushed into the castle only to find _me_ sitting on the throne," Rumarin set to work on bandaging up both of Graham's major injuries. "But I got bored.  And the Jarl's chair is incredibly uncomfortable!  I don't know how anyone could sit in that thing for very long."

Graham shot him a look, trying to figure out if the Altmer was being facetious or not.  It was difficult for him to tell.

"Or is it because you actually do take a side in this-- OW!"  The Nord jumped, feeling a sharp pinch on his thigh and close to where Rumarin was tying off a bandage.  While his companion had absolutely no change in his expression and gave no indication of doing it on purpose, Graham knew and understood the message.  He decided it best for his own health not to press the issue and remained quiet until Rumarin was finished.

"There!  Good as new.  Well, you know what I mean."  Rumarin gave a smile and light pat on Graham's shoulder.

A crowd was beginning to gather into the area close to the entrance of Whiterun.  Jarl Balgruuf made his way up to the top of a nearby watch tower and began addressing everyone within earshot.

"Revel in your victory here today, even as the gods revel in your honor!  They already sing of your valor and skill!"  He continued with praise for the soldiers who defended Whiterun and reminded them all that Ulfric would not stand down so easily.  The fighting will continue, but everyone still there that day should remember this great victory and continue fighting with the bravery they had displayed.

Rumarin learned over and asked softly, "Need help getting on your feet?"

"Probably."  Graham hadn't waited and was already attempting to stand.  His vision began to fade and he stumbled a bit, but the elf was able to steady him.  After a few slow and deep breaths, Graham was able to collect himself and stand on his own.  It was then the Jarl was welcoming all of the soldiers into Whiterun for rest, food, and mead.

"All right.  We should get going before night falls and we lose all visibility."

"What?!"  Rumarin looked between Whiterun and Graham who was already walking off a bit.  There was a longing for a nice bed and good food, neither of which would be found in the wilderness.

"We have to get to Solitude!  And with no carriages around, we are going to have to walk a portion of it."  Graham stopped and faced Rumarin with a look of amusement, "Do you really think you're going to find an available bed right now in Whiterun?"

"I could share a bed."  He answered with a huff.

"I'm sure I smell quite badly right now."

"Who says I would share a bed with you?"  Spoken with disgust, but mostly because he accepted that the two of them needed to continue on.  "Well, maybe if you bought me a drink or three first."

"Are you that easy?"  Graham wanted to poke a little fun now that he was feeling a lot better.  He began walking again.

"Only when I want to be!"

The two didn't make it far before camp had to be made, but Graham was eager and even a bit cheerful at the thought of going to Solitude. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took an absurd amount of time for me to update this story because I kept rewriting this chapter. I wanted the battle for Whiterun to feel significant and to be a big deal, something I feel like is lacking in the actual game. A battle to capture a fort should feel different than a battle to capture a walled city like Whiterun. So to accomplish this I ended up doing a lot of reading, researching, and rewriting. I hope I made this battle feel more significant than it is in the game!


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